


Into the Fray

by In_Factorem_Verba



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Fights, Gun Violence, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Revenge, minor description of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 23:30:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8077537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Factorem_Verba/pseuds/In_Factorem_Verba
Summary: Everything up to now had led Bucky to this, and his past wouldn't be laid to rest until he exacted his revenge. -" This was the hunt. Something he excelled at, almost as much as the kill. Every ounce of him was made for this, sculpted into perfection for it, mind and senses sharpened to exact this skill until it was instinct. This is what he was trained for. "





	

The shadows of the night blanketed everything, black clinging to the edges of every street corner and alleyway, leaving darkness to seep into the core of the whole city as it slept. It was a moment of peace that consumed the world, nightfall brought the comfort of sleep and the pleasant lull of dreams.

Of course, there was another kind of darkness lurking. One that hid in the mask of shadows, played out into haunting nightmares, not by any means a sign of peaceful rest.

The brunet perched on the ledge of the building, not too far from the remaining dilapidated steps of the fire escape, eyes cold and focused, unwavering from their target. He simply watched, steely blue eyes locked on the distance as he sat crouched down and unmoving, shoulders tensed and hunched making him look much like the predator he really was. Silent and patient, he waited, knowing the queues for the right time to strike.

It was almost a game, like hide-and-seek, but he was hiding and seeking, and they wouldn’t even know to seek him, and wouldn't be able to if they tried. This was his game. He was a ghost, only there to stalk his prey down before he vanished into the darkness once again, blood staining his clothes rather than teeth or claws.

Bucky remained as still as the night was around him, still watching and waiting for the right moment, muscles just shifting beneath the skin, poised and ready to act within a fraction of a second.

This was the hunt. Something he excelled at, almost as much as the kill. Every ounce of him was made for this, sculpted into perfection for it, mind and senses sharpened to exact this skill until it was instinct. This is what he was trained for.

Movement caught his eyes, causing his focus to break a little, eyes moving more than his head to look in that direction, trying to keep as still as he possibly could, his gaze landing on what he’d been waiting for all along.

Paydirt.

Like that he was moving along the narrow ledge, never glancing to what was in front of him to avoid losing sight of his mark. He moved swiftly, not even close to unsteady, easily keeping balance despite walking in a slight crouch without looking at here he was going. All of it was in the effort to keep from being detected.

In this case, it was no ordinary hunt. This was hunter seeking hunter and the stakes were a hell of a lot higher than if he were after normal prey. There was a skill this target possessed, one he too had been honed into over time, though not nearly as precisely as the brunet.

This whole situation was different. This was no mission, no revenge for a master pushing him forward or some training session. Instead, a fire burned in his veins, leaving behind the acrid taste of his rage to linger on his tongue, fueling him to act.

This was personal.

Everything that Hydra had turned him into was something he loathed, and really, he wished he could remove it altogether. To just reach inside and tear it away. The stains were long washed off the surface of his skin, but they instead lingered, etched and burned in deeper than his flesh, each sinking in like daggers into the marrow of his bones, picking them clean.

He refused to remain that hollowed out killer. That wasn't him or his life. It was never what he intended to become. That was the act of the tool Hydra spawned. He knew that, and taking this on didn’t really support that goal of burying everything that was Hydra, it was letting it continue to feed off of him, but this wasn’t something he could overlook either.

Honestly, what was one more kill? At least this was a life worth taking.

Quickly, Bucky brought himself back to focus, moving to follow the man, eyes scanning the area once more to ensure there were no witnesses, or the usual company he kept, before examining him for any obvious weapons to be wary of. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, the brunet dropped silently to the lower portion of the building, keeping his left arm as still and lax as possible to avoid any mechanical noises, knowing the whole thing would be a bust if he were heard.

The weeks of tracking and watching, monitoring his group as well as the area and his typical daily habits would all go to waste and he’d have to start from scratch as the man would assuredly go into hiding. He’d know what dangers lurked in the shadows for him. The man was too smart and too aware to risk making a mistake, no matter how slight.

Carefully, Bucky moved, crouching more before dropping over the edge, landing without a sound. He hesitated only for a moment to ensure nothing was noticed, eyes never once leaving the form before him, keeping himself low and maneuvering slowly as to not attract any attention.

Every muscle was tensed, shoulders curled inwards to make himself smaller, more discrete, hardly even breathing as he crept as closely as possible, poised to strike.

Perhaps it was terrible, but he couldn’t care. There was a satisfaction to letting this instinct work freely, to know that like this, the man had little to no chance. The tables had turned and now he would be the helpless one, and Bucky couldn’t suppress the sick enjoyment that brought him.

The brunet reached out once he was close enough, tensing slightly at the man pausing but his attention was directed down and there couldn’t be a better opportunity. He’d come too far and gotten too close. Running nor failure were options here.

Within another moment, Bucky was extending a leg, striking him in the backs of the knees, bringing him down with a grunt of surprise and anger, instantly reaching out Bucky wrapped his left arm around the man’s throat, ending the sound abruptly. He tensed, letting the slats lock and reinforce, easily squeezing down, cutting off the air supply rather than just breaking his neck despite the overwhelming urge to. He needed him to suffer.

Of course, there was a struggle, flesh hands grasping uselessly at the metal, clawing at it as if to peel it away, trying to reach to swat at him or grab ahold of anything, body twisting to try and gain back his freedom. However, Bucky was determined, holding as tightly as ever, unmoving from this goal.

This was where the man’s skills and training became a complication. He managed to reach back, lacing his fingers into Bucky’s hair, tugging enough that it started to tip him forward causing his grip to loosen slightly, and that was enough leverage and oxygen for him to fight back.

He tensed against Bucky’s hold, trying to pry back at his thumb though the metal wouldn’t give, not pausing for one moment before trying to use his body weight to flip the brunet forward, using the grasp in his hair only to meet an unexpected resistance.

Bucky twisted quickly, half turning and yanking him up off the ground before tossing him over his shoulders using only his neck for leverage, putting as much force into the motion as possible. He landed harshly, the air efficiently knocked from his lungs temporarily, giving Bucky just the chance he needed, he lunged down, to continue the assault, deflecting the knee to the gut just in time.

It was only a distraction though, the man’s fist slamming into the side of his head before his legs were being knocked out from beneath him, bringing him to the ground too.

“Oh, Bucky,” He said, voice snide and a near hum, surging forward, only managing to pin Bucky down for a moment before the brunet pitched him off, creating a small struggle between them before Bucky was half pinned again. “I’m flattered, really. You came out of hiding just for me?”

The brunet’s eyes narrowed at the mockery, his brow knitting together as he glared, pitching the man off more roughly, feeling the rage gnawing at his control, wanting him to unleash hell on the man before him. It only intensified at the smug look he received.

Slowly, Bucky shifted himself, head dropping a little as he stared him down, once again looking rather predatory in his careful movements and unwavering gaze. Hearing a short laugh was all it took for him to lunge forward again, hands reaching for his throat.

A harsh snap and a flicker of light sounded around them.  
  
“So, it does feel pain.” Rumlow hummed, though it hardly reached Bucky, his ears ringing a little as he stumbled, body feeling tingly and weakened, half numbed though it went as quick as it came, his focus instantly back on his target, fury seething, having to toss his head a little to shake the feeling of electricity pulsing in his chest.

“Now, now _soldier_ , that’s no way to behave.”

The more his voice sank in, the more that red bled in at the edges of his vision, feeling ire and disgust in equal measure, twisting at his gut like a blade.

“Careful, you keep this up, and your brain’ll be in a blender again.”

His tone was enough to blur the brunet’s vision, everything in sight turning a deep red hue, overtaking his senses, nullifying any sliver of self-control he was so desperately trying to cling to, scrambling to take him down.

“Shut your mouth, Rumlow!” Bucky growled, hands grasping onto him and spinning him so his back collided with the wall behind him, left hand clutching at his shirt, balling up his right and hitting him square in the face with all his might.

“Go on _Bucky_ ,” Rumlow practically crooned, looking rather pleased at goading such a violent reaction so easily. He shifted a little, turning his head to spit out a bit of blood from the hit he’d taken, chuckling lowly as a wicked smile parted his lips.

“ _Shut up_!” Bucky shouted, pulling Brock forward only to force him back, slamming his head back into the concrete with the impact on his chest before taking him to the ground and doing it over again, moving to half straddle him, punching him in the face several more times in succession, feeling Rumlow grasp onto him weakly, paying it no mind.

Brock released him almost immediately after, hand motioning vaguely though it was enough to catch the brunet’s attention. But not soon enough.

“I knew you’d come for me.” Rumlow weakly choked out, half chuckling before turning his head to spit out more blood, Bucky’s eyes finally leaving his form and scanning their surroundings, seeking out any sign of movement or a glint of a weapon or a possible perch.

It was just enough to give Brock a chance, his fist connecting with Bucky’s jaw, knocking him to the side a bit though the brunet held his ground, leaning away slightly only to hear the scrape of metal against the concrete, only just scrambling back, the knife blade narrowly missing his face.

Of course, this only sparked a deeper rage, bubbling not beneath the surface ready to froth over, but instead, coating his body as if it were his own skin, Bucky’s fist fusing all that fury to Rumlow’s already scarred face.

Gone was the silent and skilled hunter, that had faded into the background of the city, becoming a shadow in the night. Now there was just wrath, hot and spitting like fire, burning away at measured strikes. The broader the flame grew as it seemed to lick at his spine and fill his cavities of his chest, the more reckless the brunet became. He was fixated only on the satisfaction of skin and bone breaking beneath his fists.

Rage blinded Bucky to the sharp pain at his side, Rumlow’s blade sinking in past the layers of cotton, nearly meeting his ribs, but the brunet couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it, or care.

“You’re still their puppet.” Rumlow chokes out, his voice frail and muffled by the blood in his mouth, yet he remained just as cocky, half chuckling despite the near gasps for air, taking advantage of the fact he’d gotten Bucky to freeze. “You’re still a _murderer_.”

In this moment, the brunet didn’t care if it was true, he knew what he’d come to do, knew just what it made him. It was a title he was willing to earn. The difference being, this was a choice, _his_  choice, not some blindly obeyed orders.

He wrenched Brock’s arm back, hearing a sharp crack as he twisted it, easily prying the knife from his hand, spinning it in his grasp before raising his arm, prepared to drive the blade right through Rumlow’s throat.

Suddenly heavy footfalls were approaching and right behind them, but it wasn’t enough to deter Bucky, this was his self-served mission and nothing would flood out the need to complete it.

“Bucky! No!”

He wanted to turn, to face that voice, his eyes suddenly wide, vaguely aware of the sound of Brock choking up some as he laughed, clearly recognizing the expression on Bucky’s face, but it was too late.

Steve’s body crashed into him, knocking him off of Rumlow, their bodies tumbling a little, the knife sliding away from them. Bucky struggled, causing them to roll and flip several times, trying with everything to get the upper hand, wanting nothing more than to finish this. Limbs were being contorted and their body weight was being tossed around, Bucky’s left elbow cracking the sidewalk beneath it in the tussle.

Steve forced his way into pinning Bucky down, using as much might as he could to keep him there as the brunet continued to fight against him, testing his hold and trying to wriggle free enough to do something, even if it was a cheap shot.

“God dammit, Steve!” Bucky hissed, voice almost strained from the blond’s weight against his chest. “Let me go! I had him!”

Steve opened his mouth to retort, intending to ask him if he’d lost his mind when Bucky’s metal fist collided with the side of Steve’s head, tipping him just enough to allow Bucky to shove him off and try and roll free, eyes immediately seeking out Rumlow.

Instead, Bucky was met in return with a fist to the back of the head before Steve’s weight was on him again, crushing down against his ribs, pressing his left arm into his side and he was just blinking and slightly shocked. The second he caught a glimpse of Steve’s face, he could tell just what he’d stirred up.

“Stay the hell down, James, do _not_  make me say it again!” The blond ordered harshly, pressing down to keep him there, hands grasping hard enough to leave bruises, and if he were an average human, his shoulders would be breaking beneath the force. Right now, he just couldn’t care.

“Just what in the hell do you think you’re doing Bucky? Have you lost all sense for anything beyond this vengeance? What good does it do you, hmm? You know what they’d have done.”

His words fell on mostly deaf ears, the brunet’s focus too obscured by rage to want to back down just yet. He’d come too far.

He struggled against Steve’s hold, resisting him as much as possible without him breaking anything but that was made all the more difficult by the weakness at his side that was flaring, his arm giving way to Steve wrenching it back, the brunet drawing in a hiss of a breath, assuming that it would be broken again.

“Let me--”

“God dammit, Bucky! No!” Steve barked out, slamming the smaller man down onto his back, glowering at him, this time twisting the metal arm back. “Just _stop_. Before you get more injured.”

Bucky let out a half growl, testing Steve’s hold on him before breathing out a huff of a sigh, submitting to being trapped, not wanting to wear himself down more. Dropping his head to the side, he blinked a little, noting that Brock was gone, only blood staining the sidewalk where he’d been.

“He’s... gone?” The brunet murmured, eyes going wide as he stared in disbelief, shaking his head a little, anger washed out by disappointment in his own failure, knowing all too well that he’d not be so lucky as to get a second chance. Rumlow would take every precaution and seal himself away, rabbiting and never separating from his usual detail. Not only that, but Bucky would be at risk of Rumlow attempting to exact his own revenge.

“I had him!” Bucky snaps, eyes bright with the heat of his indignation, struggling a little against the blond, shoving at him uselessly.

“I don’t care.” Steve nearly scoffs, his voice blunt and irritated, giving him a warning glare. “You’re not a cold blooded murdered Buck, and I’ll be damned if I let you make yourself into one over the likes of him.”

The blond shook his head a little muttering something about recklessness, before Bucky was shifting beneath him, the brunet’s knees pressed in at Steve’s hips to push him back. He freed his hands, grasping onto the back of Steve’s shirt, tugging it up and grasping it in his hand and in one fluid motion, using it as leverage to lock both arms around Steve’s head, uncaring that he was cutting off his air.

Steve struggled a bit, trapped within the shirt, the position of Bucky’s knees and the pressure of his arms keeping him stranded enough that he faltered, and within another moment, Bucky grunted as he pitched him off, rolling up off the ground as Steve sucked in a much needed breath to stop the fade of his vision, Bucky’s elbow dropping down against his sternum causing his entire chest to ache and everything to blacken at the edges.

This just wasn’t something he was willing to relent.

Giving one last look of disapproval to the blond, Bucky grabbed the knife, sighing as he let his eyes scan the area, starting at the blood spots the man had left behind. He hated it, but he wasn’t above attacking Steve again. He was the entire reason that Rumlow was more than a memory.

“‘M sorry.”

“You should be.” Steve said lowly, eyes darkened, from what Bucky couldn’t quite tell, with his expression saying anger and his voice saying fear.

“I know. But,” Bucky paused, sighing a little and shaking his head, feeling nearly sickened from the cocktail of emotions and instincts running through him all at once, a frown pulling at his features. “I don’t care. I had him, and he doesn’t deserve to be living. This is personal.”

With another heavy sigh, Bucky moved forward, eyes searching for any signs of a trail, or movement, focused on tracking the man down again, no matter what it took.

Steve’s movement caught his attention, the blond standing a bit slowly, shoulders dropped forward a bit, knowing he couldn’t argue that.

“Then let me help you.”

Bucky froze, brow furrowed before he turned to look over his shoulder, eyes nearly narrowed at him, half in disbelief, blinking confusedly.

“You heard me. Let me help.”

Bucky moved to face him, expression twisted with uncertainty, questioning as he opening his mouth, nearly taking a step back as Steve stepped closer. “I would have killed him with my bare hands to make sure you stay safe Buck.”

The statement only struck a deeper confusion in the brunet but Steve’s eyes were calm and understanding now, guilt resting on his face. Bucky nodded a little, intending to say something when a clattering made him snap his head in the direction of the sound, his whole body tensing as he crouched a little, Steve’s hand at his wrist the only thing stopping him from moving towards it.

“Buck? You might need this,” Steve says, easily noting the immediate aggression Bucky displayed at being held back, offering out his other hand and earning a quirked brow from the brunet, just giving him a small smile.

“Thanks?” Bucky hummed, returning a slightly amused smirk, reaching to take the pistol and suppressor, not wanting to question where it had come from before turning on his heel to head towards the noise.

The brunet moved silently and carefully, keeping himself as hidden as possible, listening closely, knowing that Rumlow couldn’t stay silent with the wounds to his face. He cautiously checked each corner they approached, promptly assessing the area before moving on.

Within another moment, footsteps caught his attention and he halted immediately, Steve doing the same. Bucky’s eyes scanned the darkness as he hunched slightly, ears attentive to even the slightest noises, moving the gun to be readied in his grip.

His breathing was slow and steady, focused to keep his heart rate low as to not deafen himself with the sound of it in his own ears, calm and nearly comfortable despite walking into an unknown. This was his profession, and tonight, he would not rest without finishing off his prey.

Another small noise caught his attention, his head tipping back as he looked along the edge of the building, heart jolting a little as he noted the incoming aircraft, knowing that either the crew was coming to join him here, or he was being rescued. The thought of that alone making Bucky sneer.

Looking over his shoulder, Steve was moving towards the edge of the building, his focus also upwards, causing Bucky’s brow to furrow before he caught the movement, staying as still as possible.

His eyes locked onto the form, watching Rumlow carefully as he moved further up towards the rooftop, and soon, Steve was climbing the stairs, carefully and silently lifting himself between the missing sections of steps, keeping crouched as much as possible, glancing to Bucky to ensure that he caught on and earned a nod of confirmation.

With that, Bucky carefully looped around the stairs, remaining tucked away, continuing to glance back to the aircraft, noting it’s landing distance as he waited, pressed tight to the building, taking a moment to glance down at his side, frowning at the amount blood soaked material and placing his left hand over it, applying a bit of pressure.

Only another moment passed before Rumlow cried out a bit, landing with a loud sound, his body only just remaining on the ledge of the landing where Steve had kicked him down to.

“For a minute there… I thought you’d come to save me.” Rumlow wheezed, chuckling lightly as he shifted a little, trying to roll himself to sit up again, glancing to the blond with a cocky smirk. “Ruthless killin’ ain’t your style Cap.”

“Oh no-no, _I’m_ the ruthless _murderer_  after all.” Bucky butted in, Rumlow’s head turning quickly only for his eyes to go wide as the muzzle was nearly pressed to his forehead, the brunet standing practically over top of him, finger resting on the trigger.

Steve paused, finding a strange admiration in this. Eyes dragging over Bucky’s form, the unwavering and cold focus he had, one of the more haunting traits of the Winter Soldier, though no less intimidating now.

This was like a predator with it’s half mauled prey resting in it’s jaws, letting it draw in the last of it’s breaths to lull it into a false sense of security before it’s throat was torn out.

Bucky caught the slight shift in Rumlow’s body, pressing the gun directly to his forehead, shaking his head a little.

“Ah, ah. I wouldn’t if I were you.” Bucky cautioned, once again finding a satisfyingly sadistic gratification at the unsettled dread that was spreading on Rumlow’s face. “No matter what you do to me, I’m putting a bullet in your head. There’s no way out of this one. And this is why you were a failure. You’re weak, and flawed.”

Rumlow’s laugh seemed to cut through everything, rage boiling over and seeming to turn Bucky’s blood to molten tar in his veins.

“Says the broken puppet with no master.” Brock taunted, eyes focused up onto Bucky’s face. “That’s what got you in that mess. Your weakness and your flaws...”  
  
And like that Bucky’s eyes were no longer focused on Brock’s face and his expression fell flat, lifeless almost as he breathed out slowly.

“You made it _so_  easy for us--”

“Go to hell.” Bucky snarled, cutting Rumlow off, the gun no longer pointed at his forehead but abruptly dropping, aimed at his crotch, firing off a round though the noise was muted, eyes fluttering a little as Rumlow cried out, immediately writhing and partially choking on the air he struggled to inhale.

Bucky reached forward with his left hand, fingers curling into Brock’s hair, yanking his head back, forcing him into a more upright position and jerking it a little until Rumlow’s eyes opened, rimmed with tears as his body struggled to function.

“So… It does feel pain.” Bucky uttered bitterly, humming a low and satisfied noise at that, leaning back slightly, and tightening his grip on the man’s hair, and within another second, another round was fired before Bucky released him, letting him drop limp to the ground, eyes still laser focused on him, looking disgusted.

Steve couldn’t help but to look away, not that the sight was repulsive, or even that he was disheartened by the brunet’s actions. It wasn't even that it terrified him to see the ease of which life was taken, though he had to admit, this was well deserved after what he had put Bucky through.

It was the cold calculation, the non-existent reaction to what had been done. It sent a chill across his body, glancing to the growing pool of blood before reaching out almost hesitantly, fingertips just brushing Bucky’s left hand before curling around his wrist, causing him to jerk a little, glancing up at the blond with a wide eyed expression.

No words were shared, Bucky just breathed out a slow sigh, relaxing finally. This was over at last. He could close his eyes and rest easy, letting that relief begin to wash over him before Steve began to move, the brunet easily following.

Once they were a safe distance from the body, well hidden yet still in the open, Steve paused, breathing out a sigh and turning to look at Bucky, feeling comfortable that they hadn’t somehow been tracked and that they wouldn’t be discovered there.

“Is this what you’ve been doing?” Steve asked accusingly, his eyes not even focused on Bucky’s face but instead the darkened spot at his side, reaching out for it and getting swatted away, though he continued anyway, glancing up to watch guilt settling in on the brunet’s features.

“When you’d slip out of the room in the middle of the night, this is what you were doing?” The blond asked again more insistently, frowning both at the wound and the lack of an answer, though he already knew it, letting the ducked head confirm it.”You been risking your neck, casing this place for weeks, and planning this for god only knows how much longer, and instead of talking to me, you just sneak off?”

Bucky sighed, staring down at his now bloodstained boots, feeling the weight of guilt settling in his chest, filling up where his rage had been. A feeling that only Steve seemed to be capable of eliciting.

He wanted to respond, to apologize for it all, even if the words would fall painted and Steve would see right through them, Bucky knew he owed the blond that much. Before he could manage it, Steve’s arms were wrapped tightly around him, pulling him close to his chest, his face gently nuzzled into the crook of Bucky’s neck. His hands clung to him as if he would dissolve between his fingertips.

“I didn’t think you’d hear me out, Stevie.” Bucky admitted regretfully, knowing that was no excuse but his chest was aching at this display as he easily wrapped his arms around Steve’s shoulders, feeling as though his heart was being squeezed.

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” Steve blurted, the quiver in his voice the only sign giving away the pain he was swallowing back, the sound of it shattering Bucky’s heart. “Every time you left, and I woke up to a cold and empty bed, I’d sit and wonder if this was it, if you were gone again. I wanted to trust you, to believe that you’d come home but I… You scared me, Buck. I couldn’t lose you again.”

Bucky grasped tighter to him, shaking his head a little, unable to bring himself to words, feeling awful for what he’d put the blond through, wanting to take it all back but knowing he would need to live with his mistake.

Several moments of silence dragged on, nothing but the depth of the night, open and still, echoing the sounds of their own breathing around them, an unspoken understanding passing between them and eventually, Steve pushed away to stand upright.

“Y’know… We could do with a little ruthlessness.” Steve said, voice pitching just enough to sound hopeful, his bright eyes and expression confirming it, making Bucky frown a little, hesitant to assume what was meant.

“I could really use my right hand man on the field again.” A small smile curved his lips, humming a little to himself, knowing for a fact that Bucky wouldn’t say no. “I think it’s about time the Avengers had a ghost.”

 


End file.
